the divine slave slob

the uncreated as the created

“What if God was one of us? / Just a slob like one of us / Just a stranger on the bus / Trying to make His way home?”

There is one “who, though he existed in the form of God, did not regard equality with God as something to be grasped, but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave.”

The first quote is from a song in the 90s by Joan Osborne, and the second is from the apostle Paul’s letter to the Philippian church. They actually express the same sentiment. What if God was one of us? Throughout history, how often has that been expressed, in one way or another? Having access to the form of God and choosing the form of a slave, how can that mean anything else than being “a slob like one of us”?

Using those admittedly blunt and crude terms, this is the miracle of Christmas! We speak of incarnation, meaning “in the flesh.” (“In the meat”?) It is God being embodied, appearing as a human — that is, as the baby of Bethlehem. The uncreated revealed as the created. The Christian view is embodiment came as the humble and helpless infant. Hundreds of years later, the birth, the nativity, would be called Christmas (“Christ’s Mass”). Having said that, some would take a great step back and see incarnation beginning 13.8 billion years ago, right after the Big Bang as the start of the universe itself.

My guess is contemplating a divine slave slob wouldn’t go well with singing carols and stuffing stockings and drinking eggnog during the most wonderful time of the year. (Not that I don’t love all of those, including whatever might be in the eggnog.) I recently heard a commentator on a news network opine about Christmas having “a spiritual element” while being “a holiday of acquisition.” And he wasn’t being sarcastic.

While we are in the midst of the shopping days until Christmas, we are also in the season of Advent. The word derives from a Latin term meaning “coming.” Advent as a time of mindfully awaiting the one who arrives helps provide a clarity saving us from the commercially induced mind fog that shouts, “Buy and consume.” I’ve often thought, what does being referred to as a consumer mean anyway?

Perhaps it’s a question of identity. The uncreated revealed as the created imparts a limitless affirmation of who we are as humans. The sanctification of matter, of physicality, presents us as children of God. (To those who don’t use such language, please excuse my theistic reference.)

Still, Christmas is about God as Immanuel, which means “God with us.” The divine slave slob identifies with us, in all the confusion and chaos we inflict on ourselves. That includes missing the bus. So take heart, Joan. God is that stranger sitting across from you. That is the miracle of Christmas.

Now, I seem to have misplaced my Christmas lights. Has anyone seen them?